


Lathbora Viran

by woozy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/M, Possible Character Death, Possible smut, Slow Burn, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7090549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woozy/pseuds/woozy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dasyra Lavellan has been sick for two years, with no hope for getting better. In all honesty, it was getting worse. The only thing she could do was manage it and... hope for the best. That is, until she stole the mark from Corypheus. Suddenly she wasn't sick anymore. Had the mark cured her, or was something far worse waiting to happen? What did it mean for her life, her friendships, her... relationship? </p><p>A Solavellan story that is mostly canon. Slow burn. I may change and/or edit some minor things throughout the story as I tend to write and rewrite things, but I'll always update you guys when I do so. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

Dasyra woke to a pain that flared from her palm to her fingers and down her wrist. When she opened her eyes, all she could first see was green, as bright and dark as anything as it engulfed her left hand and forearm. A gasp of shock and fear broke the dense atmosphere. She went to move her arms, but grimaced as the sound and pull of chains drained any hope of doing so. Looking up, she finally realized that she was not alone, that guards with swords surrounded her and were at the ready. As if on cue, two women then entered, one in armor and another in a purple hood. The guards sheathed their swords.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The woman with short, dark hair and scars upon her face had circled behind her prisoner and leaned in close as she spoke. Dasyra stayed still, fighting to keep calm as the other straightened. The manacle about Dasyra’s wrists threatened to rub and chafe against her dark skin if she struggled too much. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for _you_.” The Dalish elf could hear her voice echo off the cell’s damp stone walls as she circled, the steep, unique Nevarran accent rolling off her tongue. Her tone was calm, but dangerously so. Accusing. Standing a few paces ahead of her was the other woman, standing quiet and observant but just as accusatory as the armored female. As the latter came about the elf’s front again, Dasyra kept her light hazel eyes to the floor and did not answer.

“Explain _this_.” She commanded as she grabbed onto the elf’s upper arm and held it up as the green mark once again flared, sending spikes of pain throughout her body. Hazel eyes finally flickered up to meet the other woman's gaze.

“I... can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” The woman’s voice was rising as she pushed the arm back down. The other that had been standing quietly joined in on circling the mage.

“I don’t know what that is – or how it got there,” Dasyra tried to explain, her voice shaking despite her best efforts.

“You’re _lying_!” The interrogator leaned in and started to grab Dasyra by the chest, and the elf leaned back immediately, a growl ready.

“We need her, Cassandra,” the other woman finally spoke as she intervened. A voice of reason. She pushed Cassandra back with a single arm.

Dasyra looked down, first at the floor and then back to her hand with the mark. What was it? Where the hell had it come from? Why... why couldn’t she remember anything? No matter how hard she tried to remember, there was hardly anything there. Dark and empty, except for what felt like fragments of a dream.

The lady in the hood had turned back to her, officially beginning her own interrogation. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

Dasyra sighed. “I only remember... running. Things were chasing me, and then… a woman?” But had this been a dream? Or was it real? She couldn’t tell… This, what little memory she had, was broken up into pieces and she had no idea where to start on the puzzle.

“A woman?” Her voice gave way to the pique of interest.

“She reached out to me, but then…” She couldn’t finish. How could she when she didn’t remember, when she wasn't even confidence in the truth of her words?

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Cassandra spoke. “I will take her to the rift.” Leliana did as told, and then Cassandra went to her one and only suspect, unlocking the manacles about her wrist only to replace them with rope, tying her wrists together.

“What _did_ happen?” Dasyra dared to ask. If her tone hadn’t been enough to convince that the elf truly didn’t know anything, her light hazel eyes held a look that did.

“It... will be easier to show you.”

Cassandra led her outside and Dasyra finally had time to notice the way the woman carried herself. A soldier, but… different. A warrior of some sort. What was she, the elf wondered. A cackle disrupted the air and Dasyra had to shield her eyes. A green light probed at her attention, and quickly she realized that it wasn’t coming from her hand. No, this time it was coming from… the sky? The elf’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped slowly. A giant, incredible, ghastly…

“We call it the Breach.” Cassandra spoke, giving a name to the green light in the horizon, forcing hazel eyes to her. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Dasyra asked incredulously.

“This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” Suddenly, the Breach grew, causing the Anchor to flare and Dasyra to collapse to the ground and cry out in pain. She curled into herself and brought her hand closer, wanting to clutch it with her other but not being able to. The mark caused her bones to feel like they were about to shatter into a million pieces inside of her, caused her muscles to tense and contract agonizingly so. Cassandra knelt down in front of her. Her tone had lost its hostility and Dasyra could note her concern, perhaps not for her specifically, but… she was certainly desperate. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it _is_ killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“It _may_ be the key to doing what?” Dasyra asked her, still keeping her hand close. She was so confused, had so many questions.

“Closing the Breach. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

“You still think I did this? To myself?”

“Not intentionally.” Cassandra shook her head. “Something _clearly_ went wrong.”

“And if I’m not responsible?”

“Someone is, and you are our only suspect. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.” Dasyra mulled over all the options she had in her head. She didn’t know exactly what this woman before her was planning – or if she even had a plan. Regardless, she doubted she could even refuse to help, and if she did, it would only plant her more as a suspect. And if this Breach truly threatened the whole world… how could she not give herself up to help? If it was true that she was the only one at the Conclave to survive…

She took a breath. “I understand…”

“Then…?” Cassandra’s dark brows rose in surprise, perhaps hope.

“I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.”

With that answer, Cassandra pulled Dasyra to her feet, and though hope for the ropes to be untied were felt, the feeling was fleeting. As they walked through the small village of what Dasyra would come to know as Haven, villagers and soldiers alike looked to Dasyra with scowls and mutters of both low and hearable volume, nothing pleasant leaving their mouths. “They have decided your guilt,” Cassandra informed her, as if she hadn’t already figured it out. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.” Dasyra stayed quiet.

They passed through a large gate at the edge of town. “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed.” She motioned for the two of them to stop and pulled out a dagger. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more.” She cut the ropes that were binding the darker woman’s hands. “Come. It is not far.” Dasyra asked the begging question of where she was taking her as she ran fingers through her short, ruggedly cut hair. The bright white tresses were dulled by soot, dust, and dirt.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.”

Great. A test, an experiment. Dasyra thought that if this test ended up killing her, her life wouldn't be greatly mourned by any of these strangers. They would mourn her as a chance, at best. Their only chance at closing the Breach.

They crossed a bridge that was littered with dead bodies and wounded soldiers. There was a Chantry mother and a couple of others that were reciting what Dasyra assumed was the Chant of Light. As her and Cassandra headed into the valley, there were small fires, barricades, wagons, and even more dead bodies scattered about the pathway. It was a sight she knew, dreadingly, would become familiar. Ahead of them was a clear view of the Breach, streams of what looked like green fire shooting out from it and landing creators knew where upon the earth, similar to meteors, spreading not just in the sky but marking its territory _everywhere_. It was terrifying. Then, suddenly, the Breach expanded again and the mark upon Dasyra’s hand forced her to collapse once more. Each time, it left her body under sensations of intense fire, and then it passed, leaving her having to catch her breath. Cassandra quickly helped her to her feet, and when she spoke, her tone had softened. “The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

“How _did_ I survive the blast?” She doubted Cassandra knew. She doubted that anyone knew, but it was worth a shot of answering. As much as she wasn’t enjoying the situation and position she was in, as much as she didn’t want to speak, there were too many questions to ask. There was a responsibility to know, or at least to try and figure things out.

“They said you… stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

The Temple of Sacred Ashes… that was where Dasyra was before. She had been sent there as a spy to sit in and listen, gathering information on the proceedings. But she couldn’t remember what happened, not the mysterious woman (or who she was, anyway) or any of the events leading to her stepping out of the rift – hell, she didn’t even remember that! All she knew was that, afterwards, she woke up to pain and hostility. And that her life was looking exceedingly different by the second.

 

* * *

[**Not** my Lavellan. This is just her hair **style** (Dasyra's hair color is white).](http://www.gamervescent.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/Screen-Shot-2014-11-19-at-7.54.08-PM.png)


	2. Run or Posture?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tiny jump, yeah. I've been debating whether or not to write in the perspective of Solas, but I've always doubted my ability in writing a canon character, so... I'll probably just dabble in it, integrating his point of view into each chapter but never exclusively. Eh. We'll see.
> 
> .Edited 6/6/2016.

Dasyra sat on the old dock located on the lake beneath Haven. In only a couple of days, her entire life had changed dramatically. It felt like it was being stringed by a puppeteer who didn’t quite know how to work the strings. She had gone from a simple Dalish mage to an amnesiac prisoner that brought Thedas to its knees with the assassination of the Divine and hundreds more. And now, she was known as… the Herald of Andraste, save the amnesia. People were believing and spreading the story that it was Andraste who had guided her out of the Fade, but Dasyra thought that she would remember such an encounter. She was suddenly a noble heroine, responsible for saving Thedas and for its future. Her, a Dalish elf that didn’t even share the belief in the Maker! Not that she couldn’t, per say. She didn’t deny the “Maker’s” presence, and she never had. Who was to say that He didn’t exist among her own gods, or that there was a different creator entirely? Who was to say that there was a creator at all? Still, whenever asked about her title, she voiced her doubts to it.

_“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!”_

_“It’s all right. I only –…”_

_The young elvhen woman dropped to her knees, bowing her entire body. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble **servant.** ” Dasyra moved to sit on the side of the bed, starring at the other woman in unreserved confusion. For the second time in what she hoped was only a couple of days, she had woken up in unfamiliar surroundings. This time, however, they were much more comfortable. There were no steel blades pointed at her, nor was she greeted by an accusatory interrogator. Instead, she had awakened in a cabin. “You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!” She looked down at the mark, which was flaring but was… not painful. It ached, a little, but it no longer left her breathless and bones feeling as if they were about to explode. And her body was sore from the fall on that second bridge, but it was clear that she was quickly healing. _

_“Then, the Breach…? We’re safe?”_

_“The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say.” The other elf then hurried to her feet and began backing out, saying that Cassandra had wanted to know when she was awake as soon as possible. Dasyra watched her leave and then looked to the clothes she wore. Knowing that someone had tended to her made her feel embarrassed, but as she looked around the rustic cabin, she found notes and her feelings turned to interest. It was her first clue that she had been not only been tended to as she slept, but also observed._

It was a lot to take in.

She looked at the mark on her left hand. It had stopped growing ever since she sealed that giant rift, after watching the vision that showed her interrupt the… sacrifice of Divine Justinia. There had been so many dead bodies on the way to the rift, but the bodies at what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes? Nothing could compare to the sights there. Dasyra had seen dead bodies before. She had witnessed death. But she’d never seen burned and burning flesh, bodies splayed and faces contorted in fear and horrific pain. What she saw at the Temple was daunting, and for days the images had plagued her mind on and off. If it wasn’t that, it was the mark. While it no longer hurt, it was still a concern, for there was no guarantee that it would stay like this forever. Speaking of, would she have it for forever? Would it disappear on its own? While there was a splinter of hope that this was true, she highly doubted it. It was a part of her now, and she was the only one that could seal the rifts across Thedas, as far as she or anybody else knew. She was… a part of this “Inquisition,” and while she terribly missed her clan, her family, she could never turn her back on the people that needed her. So, here she was… hopeful of making a new family. Even if she was afraid.

She felt as though she had impressed and gained the approval of Cassandra, a Seeker with honorable intentions and goals, to some extent. Dasyra willingly helped her close the rift, obeyed her commands even if she no longer was obligated to, and finally, Dasyra supposed, by staying and providing her aid to this fight. She, at least, proved herself worthy of trust.

Looking up at the sky, Dasyra peered up at the sun, following its bright yet soothing rays back down to the earth and calculating its shadows. It was almost time to leave for the Hinterlands. There, her, Varric, Solas, and Cassandra would meet with Mother Giselle and see for themselves what was happening between the mages and Templars. Taking a deep breath, Dasyra stood from her spot and headed back to the village, taking her time as she did so. She needed to gather her things and prepare herself for the long journey. She hadn’t spoken much to anyone since deciding to go meet Mother Giselle, and she wasn’t sure how the others thought of her. Even though she hardly, if at all, received scowls from the villagers and soldiers anymore, she was still often watched. If not as a suspicious or guilty knife-ear, then it was as the other extreme of Andraste’s herald. She felt awkward any time she had to walk through the village. As for her advisors, she had spoken only little with them. All had been respectful and polite, and Dasyra felt like they could be friends, maybe, but they had yet to spend any real time with her. Varric and Solas she hadn’t spoken to since before closing the rift. Everyone here knew each other pretty well, and that was true for the most part. She felt like the outsider looking in.

As the Dalish mage approached the entrance into Haven, she found herself being joined by Varric – speak of the devil. He had been talking to Cassandra but left her side upon seeing Dasyra, who had the feeling that they had been talking about her. She couldn’t have been seen by the two out on the dock from Cassandra’s post because of the big boulder that blocked their view. Unless, of course, they stood somewhere else, but she didn’t think they’d do that. He said nothing to her, only giving a smile. It looked like he was waiting to say something. As they entered the village, she was about to ask him but he beat her to it.

“So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up all right?” he asked her as they paused near his tent. He tended to the small fire before looking back to her. “I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would’ve spread that out over more than one day.”

Dasyra gave him a small smile. Varric, she would come to discover, was easy to talk to, and initially offered her more ease than the others. She was a quiet woman, somewhat shy, and didn’t bring much attention to herself – well, aside from the whole “divine mark” thing. And she felt as if Varric sensed that all she needed was someone to talk to her first. The least she could do in return was tell him the truth, even if she was a bit apprehensive. “I… can hardly keep up. I barely even know what’s going on anymore.”

“That makes two of us,” he replied sympathetically. “For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker knows what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement. I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

Dasyra appeared to contemplate her next response before saying, “If you think it’s that bad… why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go, Varric.”

“I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this…? Thousands of people died on that mountain.” A bit of a number exaggeration on his part - not that it made it any better. “I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky.  Even I can’t walk away ‘n’ just leave that to sort itself out.”

Dasyra sighed slightly. She recently came to know that she, indeed, was the only survivor of the Conclave. “I think it’s pure luck that I escaped.” How else could she have managed to live unharmed – disregarding the mark? Actually, it may have been the thing that saved her.

“Good luck or bad?” He paused for a second before continuing with a look of concern on his face. “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going.” Daysra looked at him thoughtfully, and slightly confused. “Heroes are everywhere – I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Dasyra left him, thinking over what he said. He actually suggested that she run away? She couldn’t tell how serious he was, but he was serious enough with that look on his face. But how could she run away, especially now of all times? She had the chance to say no, to not be part of any of this in the very beginning. But she had accepted. She went willingly with Cassandra and proved to the Seeker that she was innocent, that she was worthy of trust, and… Dasyra felt like she had something to live up to. So, no, she couldn’t run away. She didn’t want to.

Lost in her thoughts, she made her way back up to her cabin until she noticed Solas standing outside. He smiled politely at her, his humble expression not having faltered since the first time they met. She returned it as she walked up the few small steps to the cabins, looking away shyly until his voice broke the freezing air.

“The Chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all.”

Dasyra looked at him out of the corner of her eyes before turning to face him fully. "Perhaps I should ride in on a shining steed.”

“I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly they are extinct. Joke as you will, posturing is necessary.” He paused to walk a few paces ahead of her, looking out towards the lake. “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations.” Dasyra stepped closer to him to hear him better, also taking note of the way he spoke. It was a bit awkward, and she wouldn’t doubt that some people thought him a bit arrogant, like he needed to be the smartest person among a group. But he was also almost… poetic, and she couldn’t help but feel pulled in. It also may have been the sense of wisdom he radiated, and she didn’t think it was arrogance. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it yet, but to her it felt like he simply wanted to share. She didn’t believe his humbleness was a façade, but there _was_ something strange about him. Perhaps it was because he was neither Dalish nor city elf. But, to each their own. “I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” He turned to face her. “Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

“Ruins and battlefields? How…?” A glint of astonishment shone in her eyes and he could not deny her an explanation. He described to her how it worked, how he let himself dream in the Fade in the midst of ruins, and she was utterly fascinated. She’d never heard of anyone doing anything like it; there was a difference between archeological findings and actually going into the Fade, that deeply, to catch a glimpse of all the memories there.

“That’s extraordinary,” she told him, eyes wide with wonder, full lips slightly agape.

“Thank you. It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning.” There was a hint of smile at the corner of his lips. It grew with his next words. “The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything.”

What an interesting person.

“I will stay then,” he said decidedly, “at least until the Breach is closed.”

Dasyra rose a brow. “‘At least’?”

His brows furrowed. “I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.” This time, the Dalish elf’s brows furrowed.

“You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you.”

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.” She was calm and sure. Convincing. Despite his hesitation, he found himself believing that this woman would stay true to her word.

Solas looked as if she had caught him off-guard, and she didn’t think he voiced his true thoughts. “Thank you. For now, let us hope either the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the Breach.” Dasyra nodded in agreement, gave a small smile, and then returned to her cabin. But all she wanted to do was go back and listen to him speak.


	3. The Inquisition Rolls Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dasyra becomes a little more acquainted with the group during their trip to the Hinterlands. Solas notices the primal grace she displays in battle, and they meet with Mother Giselle.

Dasyra stayed near the back of the group during the first couple of weeks of the trip to the Hinterlands. The first couple of days had everyone giving her breathing room with little talk, nothing more than politeness, really. The third, however, had more effort in talking to her, and contrary to everyone’s initial impression of the woman, they soon came to learn that she didn’t mind talking to them. Even if she was a little short in her responses sometimes, she truly did appreciate their efforts. She was just… quiet. And that wasn’t a bad thing.

One of the main reasons for her quietness, though, aside from her general personality, was that something was worrying her. She didn't let it show, at least she tried not to and she didn't think anybody had noticed. But...

_"Ir abelas, Dasyra. The sickness has spread; you are only getting worse."_

_Dasyra swallowed. "That means..."_

_"You walk the din'anshiral."_

_"... Tell no one of this."_

_"But -"_

_" **No one**."_

_"Creators protect you."_

Ever since the mark, she had no symptoms of her illness. Her previous illness? It was a relief but at the same time a major concern. She could endure much more than she had in two years: she could run faster, harder, longer. She had more stamina and mana, and less fatigue. It was liberating. And yet, she couldn't help but worry about it. Was she sick still? Or had the mark somehow cured her?

They had just about another week before they reached the Hinterlands, and honestly Dasyra was a bit nervous about what they would find there. They had to speak to Mother Giselle about the mages and Templars, _confront_ these warring peoples, and who knew what else lay there. Her advisors told her to try and gain influence in the area. Considering the reports that had been flooding in to Leliana and Cullen, the Hinterlands was in a state of disarray. There were likely to be rifts, which meant demons, but there was no telling how many.

Creators, guide them.

“Varric, you joined the Inquisition when seeker Pentaghast questioned you?” Solas asked the dwarf, his calm voice cutting through the silence that had been going on since morning.

“She was very insistent that I help.”

“Interesting.”

“What's interesting?”

“It surprised me that an elven apostate is the one who joined the Inquisition voluntarily.”

“Seems you’re the only one who joined voluntarily out of all of us,” Dasyra joked as she looked over to the other elf, “Solas.” He looked at her in mild surprise and then, slowly, smiled. Cassandra, upon hearing this, gasped and reared her head around. “That is –” She stopped upon seeing the smiles on everybody’s faces and then she scowled, turning back around to lead her horse. The Dalish had only been joking and everybody caught onto it before she had. Dasyra could see why it was so fun for Varric to kid with her.

“So, you have some jokes hidden up your sleeve,” Varric commented, his signature sly smirk on his face as he looked at Dasyra. She smiled slightly at him and shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Certainly caught Seeker Cassandra’s attention,” Solas chimed in. “Though I am curious, why did you stay?”

Dasyra’s eyes flickered to Cassandra and she could see the Seeker purposefully cocking her head to hear better, not wanting to let everyone know that she was paying attention. Or perhaps she was trying not to put so much pressure on the woman considering she had been the one to lock her up and interrogate her.

“I… well…” The elf didn’t know how to answer at first, her gaze falling back to the mane of her horse. “It’s the right thing to do,” she answered finally, looking back up at everyone. They all seemed satisfied with that answer.

The last week until they hit the Hinterlands was a bit friendlier. Dasyra didn’t really talk more than usual, but it appeared that everyone felt like they had more of the option to speak with her if they wanted to. After setting up camp and meeting Scout Harding, a friendly dwarf with whom Dasyra enjoyed speaking to about the area (and who Varric had failed to flirt with), the group of four rested before making their way to the Crossroads where Mother Giselle waited. Only, they had to take care of mages and Templars first. It didn’t matter that the four of them were part of the Inquisition, or that they were a separate party in any way. They were attacked regardless, and they had to take care of the forces there. Three waves of them had attacked, which resulted in everyone being tired afterwards.  

It was interesting, Solas had noticed, that Dasyra dared to venture closer to the battle than most mages would.  Even he had stayed further behind than she did, at least most of the time. And he was sure that Varric and Cassandra had noticed as well, but they said nothing of it. Neither did he. Getting that close to enemies as a mage could be considered reckless, and maybe there was a hint of it in her. A hint of boldness. Perhaps somebody would have said something, would have chastised her, but she moved with catlike reflexes, graceful and quick and… primal, even. A Templar, for example, had gotten too close to her and as he swung his blade for her head, she bent herself backwards to dodge it, dropped her staff to grab his arm, bend it and give her the upper hand, and then moved around him and blasted him forward with Flashfire. She was trained for more than just being a mage, that was quite clear. It was a first glimpse into her life, albeit somewhat vague, but most certainly intriguing. Solas noted that she could have easily broken his arm, but it didn’t appear that she had. He wondered why.

When all was finished, the group made sure they were all okay before they met with the Chantry cleric. They found her tending to the wounded and listened to her words of comfort to a soldier who feared mages. When she convinced him to let the mages heal him, Dasyra took that as the chance to call her name. They spoke alone as Dasyra’s party busied themselves with helping the wounded or checking in with other Inquisition soldiers. Mother Giselle suggested for her to speak with the Chantry at Val Royeaux, and convinced her with reasoning, claiming that Dasyra only needed to get some of them to “doubt” the denigrating stories they’ve heard about her and the Inquisition. It was smart, and the elf could only thank the stars above that Mother Giselle seemed to be more open-minded than most of her fellow clerics.

“Herald,” Cassandra greeted as Dasyra met them once more. “What did Mother Giselle say? Can she help us?”

“She told me that she would head to Haven to help there, and suggested that I should go to Val Royeaux. We’ll go there once we report back to Haven, but for now let’s speak to Corporal Vale. We need to help the people here first.”


	4. Consider Me Intrigued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, a little spark between our two lovebirds!   
> pls don't kill me because it's so little

They had spent weeks in the Hinterlands. There were so many things to do and take care of, and while Dasyra had suspected as much, the weight of it all had only just began to sit on her shoulders. Her main concern was the refugees and soldiers at the Crossroads. The talk with Corporal Vale was just another indication of the importance of gaining influence for the Inquisition, and Dasyra, after speaking with others at the Crossroads, realized that they needed to help their soldiers first. They were giving up their entire lives for a cause that was not only disregarded by the Chantry, but completely denounced. But they believed in it, and it inspired Dasyra. No matter how badly she was exhausted.

But the mages and Templars were _everywhere_. If Dasyra and her party really wanted to help, the warring sides would have to be dealt with. Everybody seemed to agree, and it was decided that they would go for the Templars first and then the mages.

In about a month, the group of four and some of the Inquisition’s soldiers had dismantled the chaos between the two sides. It was bloody. It felt like a waste of life. But neither side would listen to what the Inquisition had to say or offer, and so it had to be done.

“Does it trouble you?” Cassandra asked as she appeared at the Dalish’s side. They were camped at the Upper Lake region near a waterfall, a perfect place to collect blood lotus, spindleweed, and some elfroot. Dasyra was doing as such now, though on the other side of the small pond, away from the others. She looked up at Cassandra questioningly. “The mark, I mean.”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she answered as she tended back to picking the leaves from the spindleweed. Cassandra took a moment to sit down next to her and looked out to the other side of the pond. Varric was tending to his crossbow, “Bianca,” and she caught Solas looking over their way.

“You know as well as I do that pain is not the only thing that can be troublesome.”

Dasyra looked at her and slowly Cassandra met her gaze. “Yes.” It was the only response. Cassandra let it go; the elf had been open enough to her before, and quite honestly, it wasn’t a bad answer. It told her a lot more than Dasyra realized, though that was probably her intent in the first place. The woman was small and quiet – friendly, but quiet nonetheless. This had first been dubbed as Dalish caution and seclusion. However, upon recent discovery, it was just part of who she was. Even when she spoke, she could sometimes be rather quiet, and Cassandra didn’t think she had ever heard the woman yell out of anger. Pain, sure, but not anger. Yet, her eyes were intense, and could send people running for the hills. Daggers to the soul, and scarily observant. Varric shared with Cassandra that the mage saw and caught a lot more than she let on. And as unsettling as that could be, Varric also told the Seeker that Dasyra didn’t speak of what she saw. She wasn’t a gossiper, and while she could be stashing secrets for her own power, it was highly unlikely. She wasn’t here to cause trouble.

 _“She’s friendly, Seeker. But if you gain her **friendship** , that’s a whole other story.”_ Varric had also told her that. Cassandra believed him. When Dasyra and her had talked back in Haven, she had been much kinder than Cassandra initially expected. She didn’t question her faith, but actually helped Cassandra with it.

“We took care of the mages _and_ the Templars, Herald. We’ve done a lot more than you may realize.”

Dasyra took a breath. She was now doing less of actually picking the herbs and more of just rolling them gently between her fingers. “I know that. But… this is only the beginning. Right now, I don’t see an end. It’s…” She stopped playing with the herbs.

“I know.” Cassandra smiled slightly. “I am curious, though.” Dasyra looked to her. “Do you even believe in the Maker?”

Dasyra blinked a couple of times before answering. “You ask me that even though I’m clearly Dalish?” Cassandra answered her with a look.

“Most people wouldn’t give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Herald, I have come across many types of people with many different beliefs. Solas is a good example.” Dasyra smiled a little at this.

“I… believe in the Elven gods. But the Maker – who knows?”

Cassandra raised a brow in curiosity and surprise. “Are you saying that there is room for one more among them?”

The mage shrugged and stood from her spot, offering a hand to Cassandra. “Religion is a part of most people’s existence, a strong one. We can’t know for certain what is truly out there.”

“Does that mean you do not believe you’re Andraste’s Herald?”

“I… could be. But I don’t think that I am. I don’t… feel it, if that makes any sense.”

Cassandra gave a nod to her. “Plenty.”

They walked back to the camp together and Varric looked up from his crossbow, greeting them with a smile. “Ready to get going?”

“Yeah. Are you all ready?” she asked, looking from Varric to Solas and then to Cassandra.

“For spending the day killing rams? Oh, yes, Herald,” Varric chuckled. Dasyra smiled to herself and grabbed her staff from inside the tent she had shared with Cassandra. They’d been sharing tents ever since leaving Haven, keeping the genders separate. It actually hadn’t been as bad as Dasyra initially thought; the two women shared some memorable moments. Dasyra’s hair, for example, was growing longer – and quickly. The other night, she found two strips of cloth and tied her hair into two tiny pigtails on the top of her head, showing Cassandra and making the two of them erupt in laughter.

“Are you sure we’re going to be able to carry all of it?”

“If we split it between the four of us, I’m sure we’ll be fine. Let’s head out,” Dasyra said as she began her way down the hill. The rest followed suit.

\-----

“What is she doing?” Cassandra asked as she let her chin rest in her hand.

“Is she seriously –” Varric started.

“Praying,” Solas finished, and then added, “I believe.”

“I knew Dalish hunters were raised to respect animals, but… I didn’t know they actually paid _tribute_ to them.” Cassandra cocked her head to the side. All three of them were lined up next to each other some distance away from the Dalish mage, observing and listening to her send a prayer with the rams to their death.

“I don’t think it’s that common,” Varric agreed.

Solas smiled to himself as he leaned against his staff.

As expected, the group spent the entire rest of the day hunting ram meat for the refugee hunter at the Crossroads. Once all meat was acquired, Dasyra took a moment to thank Andruil and nature itself for blessing them with it, and prayed that their journey to death held safe passage. It was a quick prayer, and soon she was turning around to rejoin her group.

“Do you do that with all animals you kill?” Solas asked as he strode beside her, hands behind his back. They were making their way back to the Crossroads.

“Animals don’t deserve any less than people,” she answered as she glanced up at him. He was much taller than she was.

“You pray for the people you kill, too?”

“Well… yes. I try.” She caught his amused smile. The corner of her own lips twitched. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s only… most only do so in times of great tragedy or for their loved ones almost exclusively.”

“Are you saying you’re impressed?” She teased.

“I’m saying I’m intrigued.”

Dasyra looked up to him again, staring into his eyes as he smiled down at her. Or was he smirking? Creators, he wasn’t flirting with her, was he? No, he couldn’t be! It was _Solas._

She could only smile and look away shyly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, Dasyra looks away shyly all the time.... it's all she can do okay


	5. The Nightmares Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad dreams starts daily midnight training. Dasyra discovers she, or rather the Inquisition, has been contacted by her clan.

Her hands were finally warming up. It was nearing dawn, the blackness of the sky becoming lighter by the hour. Fresh snow fell during the middle of the night, and Dasyra had woken up from a… bad dream. Not being able to sleep nor being able to calm down by just sitting there, she hastily tied on her boots, grabbed a coat, and headed outside. She made her way to the clearing near the docks, and once there she began training. Push-ups, which numbed her hand. And then began training with a tree. A few times she thought about snatching a dummy from where the soldiers trained, but opted against it. She didn’t want to wake anybody – or risk getting in an argument with the soldiers standing watch. The ones that were had almost started something with her for simply walking past them, but she assured them that she would be all right. They wouldn’t get in trouble should the Herald come to mortal danger on their watch, because it wasn’t going to happen. Plus, the tree worked fine.

She just needed to breathe.

It was the fourth night of being back in the village since the events at Val Royeaux. Back in the Hinterlands, Master Dennett had pledged his help to the Inquisition and as soon as that happened, the group headed to Val Royeaux. Dasyra thought about first checking in at Haven, but it was faster if they left for the Orlesian capital from the Hinterlands. There, the Chantry had been waiting for her and the others of the Inquisiton. But nobody could have guessed what would happen next. While the Chantry had called upon the Templars for their support, it seemed that Lord Seeker Lucius had other plans in mind for the Templars. They defied the Chantry and they didn’t support the Inquisition. All were… “beneath” them, as if they held some sort of divination. Apparently, they now possessed their own authority. As did the mages, and more recent the Inquisition.

It was worrying. And so were the nightmares.

The Inquisition also had received an invitation to the village of Redcliffe from the leader of the mage rebellion herself, Grand Enchanter Fiona. She offered her help to close the Breach, which meant that the mages were a viable option at this point. It was clearer now that a decision had to be made about the mages and Templars.

On the bright side, however, Dasyra believed that they did gain a couple of new allies. And Val Royeaux wasn’t like anything Dasyra had ever seen. Beautiful blue and white buildings, gilded. It was no wonder that it was the heart of Orlais. Even though they hadn’t been able to explore the whole city, it was still a sight to see. In addition, they gained Sera, a fiery and loud elf that was part of a group called the Friends of Red Jenny. Dasyra still wasn’t clear on what kind of group they were, but Sera didn’t seem to be the bad guy here. She was… different, but not bad. Authentic, in her own way. And they had gained Vivienne, the Imperial Enchanter to Empress Celene. She was poised, graceful, and… assertive. Kind of badass, actually. Neither had arrived to the Hinterlands yet, but the Dalish knew that they would arrive soon.

_“We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe. The mages may be worth the risk.”_

_“The Inquisition needs agents in more places.”_

_“There is one other matter…. Grey Wardens missing… there may be more going on than we thought.”_

The Dalish rounded the tree, the snow well trodden by now. She was steady, balanced, and was quick on her feet. Sweat traced her bow and the back of her neck.

There was always something more to do. Thinking back to her conversation with Cassandra, there was no doubt in Dasyra’s mind now that all of this was only the beginning. It was as if every time they finished one thing, three more issues came to the surface. It was exhausting, but… in the end it was worth it. Dasyra couldn’t deny how good she felt after helping the people in the Hinterlands.

The sun was rising now. It ornamented itself above the Frostback Mountains, highlighting the trees at the tips and casting its rays past the grey clouds. It was orange around the sun, followed by a light pink fading into a purple, and finally it came to the last of the dark blue. Dasyra leaned against the tree with a heavy breath, her muscles aching for a break. It was day now… that meant there was work to do. She let herself watch the sunset until its last few minutes, wanting to cool down some, when she felt eyes on her. She looked around the open space slowly and carefully, but didn't see or hear anyone or anything. So she headed back to the village.

Not many more people were up. Soldiers still stood at the ready outside the gates and a few more inside the village. They all acknowledged her in some way. She used to hardly acknowledge them at all, too shy or unthinking to do so. But now she at least made eye contact with them.

Once she was in her own cabin with the door shut behind her, she took another few deep breaths and began changing into her casual wear. It wasn’t her favorite, but it worked. She wasn’t exactly in the position to be picky… well, she actually probably was, but she didn’t want to be. Laying back on the bed, hazel eyes traced patterns in the wood of the ceiling before slowly shutting to rest.

\--

“So, this is it, huh?” Sera asked as her and Dasyra sat down at one of the tables in the tavern. The blond elf had arrived later that day, around noon. “Oh, no, it’s fine, yeah? It’s just… I thought it’d be bigger.” Sera giggles. “That would’ve been hilarious if you were a man, right? … Wasted.”

“‘Wasted’?” What did she mean by that?

“Anyway, stopping war should earn more sovereigns than this. We need things back to normal for coins to be flowing again. Another reason the Templars and mages need to be sat down.”

“You know it’s more than the war between those two, right?” Dasyra knew she had evaded the question on purpose, but it didn’t matter. Not right now, anyway.

“Well, sure, the sky has a hole in it. But I can’t put an arrow in that. Well, I have. Doesn’t come down – that’s weird. And that’s the point, right? It’s weird and right there, but they still want to punch each other. They’re too busy to look up where the real questions are.”

“… Right. They should end all war and stitch the sky. The easy, simple one first, of course.”

Sera laughs. “You’re daft, yeah? Most people get special, lose their snark. Can’t see how stupid it all is. I think I’ll like you, lady Herald. Maybe you _are_ a little touched, yeah?”

Dasyra snorted lightly. “I agree with you, Sera. The real questions _are_ up in the Breach, but to get to those questions, we have to deal with the war down here first. I’m giving it a shot. It’s all I can ask from anyone else.”

“I’m in. It’s an investment, yeah? Better pay off, too. Stupid war and… everything. I have things to do!”

The Dalish smiled. “You and me both. Anyway. How would you like to go the Hinterlands? We have to find someone.”

“Like I said. I’m in.”

With plans in place, Dasyra left the tavern in search of Solas, who was at his usual spot just above the stairs. She wanted to delve into the knowledge he held on elves, both ancient and modern. Sera and Solas were both very different from elven stereotypes and it was… curious.

_“Closing the Breach is our primary goal. But I hope we might also discover what was used to create it. Any artifact of such power is dangerous. The destruction of the conclave proves that much.”_

_“You don’t think whatever created the explosion was destroyed in the blast?”_

_“You survived, did you not? The artifact that created the Breach is unlike anything seen in this age. I will not believe it destroyed until I see the shattered fragments with my own eyes.”_

_“You keep saying artifact… what makes you so sure it is one?”_

_“It is unlikely that any mage can have such a power.”_

_“Right… oh! Right, I remember you saying that. We would do well to try to recover whatever artifact created the Breach.”_

_“Leliana’s people have scoured the area near the blast and found nothing. Whatever the artifact was, it is no longer there. In any case, did you need me for anything?”_

_“I was actually… interested in hearing your opinions on elven culture.”_

_“I thought you’d be interested in sharing **your** opinions on elven culture. You are Dalish, are you not?” His tone was suddenly accusatory. Nearly hostile._

_She looked at him in confusion, but his eyes bore into her and she knew she had to speak. “Do you have a problem?” She wasn’t angry or even hurt. She was just confused. She remembered what he had said to her about him being attacked by the Dalish, but… she didn’t know why he suddenly got so angry with **her**. _

_“They are children acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times!”_

_“And… you know the truth?”_

_“While they pass on stories, mangling details, **I** walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not.”_

_“I…. ir abelas, hahren.” The words flowed from her lips without restraint, but she didn’t regret it. “If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I… wish to make that right. What course would you set for them – us –  that is better than what they know now?”_

_He sighed, and his angered tone had calmed. “You are right, of course. The fault is mine, for expecting what the Dalish could never truly accomplish. Ir abelas… da’len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask.”_

But she hadn’t gotten the chance to ask because they had been attacked by wolves. Now was her chance to pick up where they left off. She smiled at him once their met eyes, but as she began to approach him, Leliana advanced from the side.

“Lady Herald? A moment, please?” she asked in a kind voice. Dasyra looked from Solas to her and back to the elf again. He smiled politely at her, knowingly and somewhat apologetically for the constant attention needed from the Herald, and she reluctantly nodded to him in acknowledgement before turning to Leliana. “Yes, what is it?”

“I see Sera has arrived?”

“Mhm. I’m surprised Vivienne didn’t show first, though. She didn’t seem to be the late type…”

“Oh, Lady Vivienne? I’m sure this is all part of her arriving-fashionably-late plan.”

“Oh…” Dasyra giggled. “That makes more sense. I’m sure that’s not all you came to ask me of…?”

“Your clan, Herald. They have contacted us. They’re concerned you might be a prisoner.” Her tone held a hint of amusement as she handed the letter to Dasyra.

_Clan Lavellan offers greetings to the Inquisition and wishes it well in sealing the Breach that has opened in the sky. While some Dalish clans hate humans and wish nothing to do with them, Clan Lavellan has always dealt fairly with all and wished only for peace. That said, we have on occasion been forced to defend ourselves from those who saw us only as potential victims._

_It has come to our attention that a member of our clan is being held captive by your Inquisition. She went to the Conclave only to observe the peace talks between your mages and templars, and we find it highly unlikely that she intentionally violated your customs. If she has been charged with a crime, we would appreciate hearing of it. If not, it would ease our concerns to hear from her to know that she remains with the Inquisition of her own will._

_We await your reply,_

_Keeper Istimaethorial Lavellan_

“Keeper…” Dasyra murmured to herself. She read the letter over once more before looking up to the spymaster, expression unreadable. “Do Cullen and Josephine know?”

Leliana nodded. “Josie suggests we send one of our elven scribes to your clan. Cullen thinks we should instead send some of our troops.” Dasyra shook her head. “No, sending troops would only alarm them… what do you suggest?”

“The Dalish respect deeds, do they not? If you’d like, my own elven agents can deliver the message with something that shows good faith.” Dasyra nodded to this slowly as she looked at the letter again, trying to decide between her and Josephine. “Hmm… go with your plan, and let the others know.” She paused as she met Leliana’s gaze again. “Thank you for bringing this to me in person. Is it okay if I… keep it?”

Leliana gave a slight bow and nod. “Of course, Herald.”

Dasyra smiled lightly. “You can call me Dasyra, Leliana. If we are to be friends, as you put it, you should call me Dasyra.” Leliana only smiled, and then she left. When Dasyra turned back around, in hope of Solas waiting for her, he was nowhere in sight.

She tried not to be so disappointed. It was probably best that she packed for the Hinterlands anyway. Warden Blackwall needed to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who says martial arts can’t exist in Thedas? It certainly exists now. If you're wondering what Dasyra was doing with that tree and how she was training... that was it. I’ve yet to decide what kind she can do, though… I was thinking ju jutsu or something similar mixed with some boxing… hmm…


	6. Reality Slaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shared moments are so fun to write.  
> Also, ya'll get a glimpse of her nightmares. 
> 
> If anybody has any ideas/constructive criticism, please let me knoww~

Sera, Cassandra, and Solas were the three that Dasyra chose to go this time. She hoped it would be a faster trip to and from the Hinterlands than last time, but everyone knew that things were unpredictable. They were also planning on going to Redcliffe to meet with the Grand Enchanter. While she would miss Varric’s presence and company, she knew that he would appreciate somewhat of a break. Plus, he still seemed pretty bent on the red lyrium problem, and Dasyra wanted to allow him some time looking into all of that.

“You can make magic anywhere, Solas? Ever piss it by accident?” Sera asked. She, of course, had been the first to break the silence, and this, of course, was her very first question.

“No,” Solas answered swiftly. “Wait.” It appeared he answered a bit too quickly and everyone couldn’t help but turn to look at him, waiting for his answer. “… No.”

“What…?” Sera asked. “How would you not remember something like that?”

“We were all young once.” Everyone laughed.

Once they reached the closest camp in the Hinterlands, they were given word about where Warden Blackwall had last been sighted. He was near the Upper Lake. It was decided they would take an hour to settle in and rest before going to search. And it was at this time that Dasyra finally got the chance to speak with Solas.

“Lethallan. Did you need something?” He asked as she approached him.

“I was hoping you had a moment to teach.” He rose a brow in waiting. “About the ancient elves?”

Solas watched her as he spoke, taking in any little reaction she might have to his words about Arlathan. The last time they discussed something in great detail, he had become heated when she had only been curious. He had assumed that _she_ had a problem with _him_ , when it was truly the other way around. Or – no, that wasn’t right either. He did not have a problem with her. He had a problem with the Dalish and their typical knack to entirely disregard what he had to share.

But she didn’t do that, did she? Even after he had been unnecessarily rude, she came back and tried again to hear what he had to say. She was patient and kind. Like a breath of fresh air. And she seemed to attract those around her with the same qualities. He had great conversations regarding faith or life with both Cassandra and Varric. And although Sera and Vivienne were both a bit of a stretch for him, Solas found that he was giving them the benefit of the doubt. Whether that was due to Dasyra's influence, he didn't know but he couldn't help but think it was.

She surprised him time and time again.  She was…  inspiring. When they were all once sharing opinion of Dasyra, Cassandra had shared with him about her beliefs of the elven gods and the Maker. How she, like him, was open to new ideas and did not disregard someone’s belief. She believed in the elven creators, as expected – she _was_ Dalish – but what was significant was that she _could_ believe in the Maker, or any other god out there. She didn’t deny their existence.

It was a trait he admired, even if it was only because he shared it with her.

In any case, Solas’ answer about the elves before their time, or Dasyra’s, more precisely, was rather dreamy and it showed in her expression. Spires leading up to the near heavens, palaces floating in clouds, a time where elves were of high status… it amazed her and it shone in those incredible hazel eyes of hers. In fact, the hazel reminded him of the spires of crystals he spoke of. When the light would hit them in the right place, above the ocean and reflecting its seafoam green hues with echoes of blue and grey… that was the color of her eyes.

It made him homesick… as if he wasn’t on a daily basis.

\---

The Inquisition group trekked their way to the Upper Lake region. Upon arriving, they could hear loud voices, a bit of stern yelling. They followed the voices onto the small bridge above the lake and to the cabin, and there they found Warden Blackwall training farmers to defend themselves against bandit attacks. He saved Dasyra’s life from a bandit’s arrow and, it appeared, his “conscripts” future lives. After a quick scuffle with the thieves, he sent the farmers off to their homes and families, and answered any questions the Inquisition had.

He didn’t know anything. But he “knew” that the Wardens didn’t have anything to do with the Divine’s murder. And yet, despite his lack of knowledge of his comrades, he offered himself to the Inquisition. Hazel eyes flickered over to Cassandra in hesitance and looking for opinions. She still wasn’t quite used to being the one to make the decisions on the spot, but in time she would become better. Only if she started now, though. So, before Cassandra or anyone else could give her something, she looked back to Blackwall and nodded, officially accepting his services.

“If you’d like, you can stay with us at our camp tonight so you can ride with us back to Haven. We do have another mission to carry out in Redcliffe, though. You're welcome to come.”

“Oh! Well, I - uh... If it’s all right…” Dasyra reassured him with a small smile and a nod, and it was decided.

Later that night, they were all gathered around a campfire, warming up against the cool night air.

“So, do all Grey Wardens have beards?” Sera asked as she plopped down beside Blackwall.

“No, just me,” he answered. “I stole all the beards, and all the power held within. There can be only one,” he answered as his tone got more serious with each word, which caught Dasyra’s amusement and made her giggle. Blackwall caught her eyes and smiled at her. As their gaze lingered on each other, she realized he was probably feeling as though she was warming up to him. She was probably a little too… stony when they first spoke to one another. He didn’t know her yet, but this was a step. So she smiled back at him.

The shared moment between the two didn't go unnoticed by a... certain elf.

\---

_She was there. Her body curled in a fetal position. She was there in the dark space, naked, alone. As she always was. Her eyes were closed but whether she was dead or just sleeping, Dasyra could never get close enough to tell. She must be sleeping._

_There, Dasyra was. It was her own body, her own face. It was… her. A shimmer of a green barrier around the body. Dull skin and duller hair. She looked sickly. She **was** sick._

By the end of the first week of repeated nightmares, the Dalish had finally figured it out. It was the fate Dasyra would have faced if not for the mark. Or… it was the fate that was waiting for her. Patient. She didn’t know if the barrier was protecting the body, or if it was protecting Dasyra herself. She could only guess that it was the mark’s doing. But it frightened her. Her sickly self laid there, in her dreams, in the Fade. In the deep recesses of her mind. The sickness hadn't left. It wasn't gone. It wasn't just a figment of her past any longer.

It was reality slapping her in the face, and it scared her.

She woke up in the middle of the night, exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep, but the nightmare was persistent and overwhelmed her unconscious thought. Slowly sitting up, Dasyra pushed the thick blankets off of her and grabbed her staff. She made sure Sera and Cassandra hadn’t woken up, studying their breathing, before making her way out of the cramped tent as quietly as she could. Walking barefoot, the Dalish enjoyed the feeling of the cool grass nearly tickling her feet. A single female guard stood watch and they nodded to each other. She didn’t know her name, but the guard didn’t say anything to the others about the mage’s adventures at night. It was appreciated.

With the light of the nearly full moon, she headed back up to the Upper Lake, letting the bottom of her staff run against the ground once she was far away enough for its noise not able to wake the others. When she was near the main waterfall, she began training, just as she did every other night.

It was about an hour in when Dasyra could feel eyes on her back, watching her movements. She had felt them many times before. It didn’t happen every time, but… it happened enough. She thought at first she was just being paranoid, but now she knew it was real. There was somebody watching her. And she was tired of it.

Not stopping her training, the mage finally said something. “I don’t understand why you take such interest in this.”

She could hear the ice blast coming for her. Gasping and jumping to the side to dodge it, the ice barely missing her thigh, she slammed her staff to the ground to form a barrier around herself. Her eyes quickly trained back to the source of the magic behind her. It wouldn't have hurt her, but that didn't mean she would let it slide.

It was… Solas?

He stood out in the open, a small smirk gracing his lips as he casually leaned back into a tree. He caught her gaze, and by the look of surprise on her face and the mild confusion, he knew she hadn't thought it was him.

“Oh, and here I thought you figured out who your observer was.”

“It’s been you this whole time?” He straightened and started to approach her.

“Are you disappointed?”

The question caught her off-guard. “No… just…” She sighed in defeat and rested all her weight on one foot, using her staff as support. “What are you doing?”

“I could ask the same of you.” His smirk had transformed into a smile, though she could still see that twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he stopped a few feet from her.

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” she answered simply after a few moments of silence passed between them. There was no use lying, even if her answer was obvious – he had been the one watching her for the past who-knows-how-long. “This helps.”

“I see…”

Meanwhile, the three that had been sleeping… stopped sleeping. Sera had been awake long before Dasyra, but she had acted asleep because, _obviously_ , the Inquisitor was hiding something. But the elfy-elf was, too. When she peeked out of the tent and saw Solas following Dasyra, a rush of excitement made her giggle and she woke Cassandra and Blackwall up, convincing the two to follow her. “You won’t wanna miss this,” she had told them.

They hid behind large shrubbery and watched the two elves from behind the scenes. They had made it just before Solas challenged Dasyra with an ice spell. Sera swallowed numbly but focused her attention on what was important.

“Mages often train better when they have someone to help,” Solas told Dasyra as she took a deep breath to try and calm her breathing.

“Says the one who has been alone in the wilderness for years,” she teased. He chuckled, the sound warm and worth appreciating.

“That’s not quite true.”

“Oh?”

Solas’ hands found their way to his back, as they usually did. The atmosphere was much more comfortable between them. The three watching in hiding could all say in unison it was electricity between them. Oh, if only Varric had been there to see it!

“I have built many lasting friendships. Spirits of Wisdom, possessed of ancient knowledge, happy to share what they had seen. Spirits of Purpose helped me search. Even wisps, curious and playful, would point out treasures I might’ve missed.”

“I don’t know of any spirits by those names,” Dasyra said.  The conversation had taken a different course that she didn’t expect, but she wasn’t about to change the subject. Solas was _talking_ to her. Not teaching. Actually talking.

“They rarely seek this world. When they do, their natures do not often survive the exposure to the people they encounter. Wisdom and Purpose are too easily twisted to Pride and Desire.” Well… he was teaching a little bit.

“You mean… spirits become demons?”

“The Fade reflects the mind of the living. If you expect a spirit of Wisdom to be a Pride demon, it will adapt. And if your mind is free of corrupting influences, if you understand the nature of the spirit, they can be fast friends.”

“You can become friends with spirits? I… I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“Anyone who can dream has the potential. Few ever try. My friends comforted me in grief and shared my joy.” She wondered what he grieved over, and what filled his heart with the joy he spoke of. “Yet, because they exist without form, as we understand it, the Chantry declares that spirits are not truly people. Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?”

Dasyra giggled. “Those things are what people may first notice. But, I see your point. I… I’ve never thought about it that way. Thank you,” she said, “for sharing. It’s… interesting. _You’re_ interesting.” Where Solas thought she might look at him shyly, as she had often done, he found her gaze unyielding.

“I – … thank you. Few are willing to entertain such a notion. But _that_ isn’t quite an answer.” Solas smiled at her and nodded his head. It was his sign that he was leaving.

“Solas,” Dasyra called out his name lightly but… there was a hint of something there he couldn’t name. He paused and turned back around to look at her. “I look forward to helping you make new friends.”

His brows rose. “That should be… well.”

Dasyra smiled. Did she leave him speechless as he often did to her? “That isn’t quite an answer either.”

Solas returned her smile, the two barefoot elves sharing a silent moment before Solas headed back to camp, giving Dasyra the privacy she needed. But as he disappeared down the hill, she no longer felt the need to train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last scene inspired by this http://seigl.tumblr.com/post/145424521849/first-few-days-in-hinterlands-u-i-made-up-their


	7. Magister Gereon Alexius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group makes it to Redcliffe only to feel an ominous presence at work. Dasyra discovers what, or who, is causing it.

“You're smirking again. Just like in that fight before with Beardy’s ‘conscripts.’ What's so funny?”

"The _simplest_ spell had you white as a sheet. I've shrugged off worse in practice.”

“Well, sorry I’m scared of the stuff I’ve been warned about my whole life – like most people who aren’t Seekers.”

“I apologize. I could help if you’re willing.”

“Pfft! No! I have things to do. You can help by standing in front of me.”

“ _That_ I can do.”

Cassandra and Sera’s conversation carried the group for a little while. Actually, it was Sera that carried out most of the conversations, giving everyone something to pay attention to other than the path to Redcliffe. They were almost there.

Neither Dasyra nor Solas had spoken about the night by the waterfall – and neither had the rest of the group that watched them from the bushes. It wasn’t like it was a secret – well, part of it was with her whole not-sleeping thing – but it also wasn’t that important to share… was it? Solas was confusing. Or maybe it was just Dasyra. Whatever it was, the matter was set aside for the time, even if she found herself being drawn to Solas' side more often than not.

Dasyra knew that she needed to focus on the mission, but the letter that was currently in her hands for the third time that day kept scratching at a persistent itch, and it was only almost noon.

“What is that you keep reading?” Sera called as she led her horse back to walk near the dark-skinned elf. It seemed that the silent agreement of everybody not asking questions was getting old; they were concerned it was a bringer of bad news. The Dalish looked at the blond elf as she began to neatly fold it and put it in her pack, Sera’s neck craning to catch a glimpse and scowling in disapproval as it disappeared. “It’s just a message from my clan.”

“‘Just’ a message?” Sera egged on. “I don’t think so. ‘S got you making all sorts of faces.”

“What? I’m not making faces.”

“No, but you are now,” the lighter-hued elf giggled and winked at Dasyra before moving on to bug their new Warden friend. Dasyra only shook her head and smiled a half smile. Sera could be pokey but she didn’t pry, not with personal things anyway. She _did_ have some boundaries.

It didn’t take much longer for them to reach the village, the gate in view. A tingling sensation spread from Dasyra’s palm and outwards to all that the mark touched, something that happened only when she was around a rift. She squinted her eyes in concentration as she looked out to the horizon, and then she saw the green light.

“I want a constant watch on that damn thing! Sound the alarm at the first sight of demons!” A guard came running from the site of the rift as demons began to pour out. The group moved toward the rift at once, leaving their horses behind, and the tingling sensation grew to sparking and then outright flaring all in an instant.

This rift was different. Demons appeared, as normal. They died, as normal. But there were marks on the ground, rings of green with a sickly yellow fuming from the center. They didn’t appear to be a problem until a Terror demon forced Dasyra to step back into one, slowing all of her motions. The demon followed after her and she feared for her life, thinking that because the marks on the ground appeared to be caused by the rift, the demons would not be affected. But she was wrong, and both of their motions were slowed. As the demon reached out to grab her with its claws, Daysra forced herself to step backwards, but it wasn’t fast enough. As a horrendous claw stretched to grab her by her face, she could feel her face expression contort to terror. But the claw suddenly stopped. Ice formed around the demon, freezing it entirely and she looked back to see Solas behind her. He saved her. Their eyes caught momentarily before she let out a sigh of relief and moved as fast as she could to get out of the demon’s grasp and out of the mark on the ground. As soon as she did, she cast a fire mine spell right underneath the demon. Just as it was about to crack free, the mine exploded and killed it.

She got lucky.

“What… are those things?” she breathed after closing the rift. It appeared the marks _were_ connected to it, as they disappeared as soon as the rift did. The demons were affected as equally as their group was, but it didn’t catch them off-guard. Dasyra, nor anyone else, had never come across them before, not with the other rifts they closed.

“We don’t know what these rifts can do. That one appeared to alter the time around it,” Cassandra answered.

“I don’t know… something’s wrong here. Why is this the only rift we’ve seen with that… ability?”

“Perhaps they are ra –”

“Maker have mercy! It’s over. Open the gates!” The guard interrupted Cassandra and ran towards the large gates as it opened. Dasyra and the others followed her and were greeted with one of their own. Turns out, Fiona hadn’t been expecting them. No one had. An elf that was clearly from the Circle told them that someone called “Magister Alexius” was “in charge” now, and they could speak with Fiona while they waited for him. A Tevinter magister! The group did not want to waste any time getting into the village, but when they did, their suspicion only grew.

Located on the western end of Lake Calenhad, Redcliffe was filled with merchants and fisherman looking for trade between Orzammar and Orlais. It was a clear image on the lower region of the village. That part was normal. But now it was also filled with the rebel mages, and everyone moved like something wasn’t quite right. On the higher part was the Gull and Lantern, the tavern where Fiona was waiting. Dasyra waited to speak to people from the village, instead making her way straight to the former Grand Enchanter.

“Welcome, agents of the Inquisition. What has brought you to Redcliffe?” Fiona was a woman of pale skin and dark hair, tall and graceful. But even she, like the others in the village, gave a feeling of… hesitation. Anxiousness.

“You… invited us here. Back at Val Royeaux,” Dasyra answered.

“You must be mistaken. I haven’t been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.”

“But we spoke to you directly. In person. If it wasn’t you… they looked exactly like you.”

“Exactly like me? I suppose it could be magic at work, but why would anyone…? Whoever, or whatever brought you here, the situation has changed. The free mages have already… _pledged_ themselves to the Tevinter Imperium.”

Dasyra could feel her blood run cold, the hair on the back of her neck raising.

“An alliance with Tevinter?” Cassandra said, her tone illustrating the shock everyone felt. “Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?”

“I understand that you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter,” Solas agreed, though his tone was much calmer than Cassandra’s.

“As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.”

“Then who is?” Dasyra’s brows furrowed, and Solas wondered why. Was it impatience? Fear? Irritation masking either of those feelings?

“Welcome, my friends!” A voice called out from behind them as if on cue. Immediately, all turned to look to who it was that beckoned their attention. “I apologize for not greeting you earlier.” It was a man decked in red and whose tone was friendly, but it sent goosebumps running up the Dalish’s arms. He sounded like someone with an ulterior motive.

Fiona introduced him as Magister Gereon Alexius. He then greeted Dasyra directly and explained to her all that had happened – but only after she asked, of course. He told her how the Arl of Redcliffe had left after some… persuasion. How mages in Tevinter would be under his protection as they worked to gain their rights as citizens… and then their army.

Dasyra couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and even Fiona became aggravated at this talk. But she had been desperate in making the deal, and there did not appear to be an outing of it. For the moment, the Dalish decided to play along with Alexius, feigning interest in an alliance. After sitting down at a table, with the others standing guard, the magister introduced his son, Felix. He wore similar styling as his father, but the material was yellow, and disappeared after being sent to fetch a scribe.

 “I am not surprised you’re here. Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages will be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.” The magister spoke quickly, barely even catching a breath between sentences. She wasn’t sure if that was just how he spoke, or if he was rushing something.

 “Will you lend us your forces?” It nearly hurt Dasyra to ask, but she kept cool.

“There will have to be –” He began, but stopped as his eyes looked to the side. She followed his gaze to see Felix walking slowly towards them, looking faint. Dasyra stood immediately and met him half way. He collapsed into her arms, but did not faint, and apologized for what he called clumsiness. From behind she could hear his father’s concerned call to him, and in her hands she could feel something being slipped. A piece of paper? Alexius was quick to be by his side only to begin leaving with him, mentioning powders and telling the Inquisition that they would have to finish at some other time. They all watched the magister and his party leave with Fiona. It was only then that Dasyra looked at the note in her hand.

“ _Come to the Chantry. You are in danger_ ,” it read. She looked up towards the door. It seemed that she was not the only one who could feign something.


	8. Let the Deep Shit Commence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Dorian, the Inquisition gets an offer from a Qunari leader of a mercenary company. Accepting it, she gets a feel of his personality. Then she acquires Mercy.

_“To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”_

_“The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and **it’s unraveling the world**.” _

Dasyra rubbed her temples. Redcliffe had been… telling. Dorian of House Pavus was a man with an air of playfulness about him. He was well groomed, and Dasyra could remember that, despite the several demons they faced off in the Chantry, his hair had barely been out of place. And neither had been his mustache. Though Cassandra had given warning because he was also Tevinter, Dasyra wasn’t able to deny that he wasn’t as off-putting as Alexius was. As the Tevinter mage explained everything, how Alexius figured out to distort time and had used it to get to Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Daysra could hardly believe what she was believing. But Felix supported everything – and only with worse news. Not only did they have Alexius himself to worry about, but also the cult he was a part of. The Venatori.

_“My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori.’ And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”_

_“They’re **obsessed** with you.”_

Just thinking about it sent shivers running down her spine. But none of it was an answer for the reason Alexius was doing all of this; it just gave way for more questions. If Alexius was at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she didn’t remember him. His voice didn’t sound like that deep, daunting voice that she and the others had heard in the vision when she first tried to close the Breach. Even still, she couldn’t reject his part in all of this; she still hadn’t regained her memories, after all. She didn’t think Dorian was lying, and because Felix had helped, she believed there was definitely a connection. Whatever it was, the mages were in danger. They all were.

_“There are worse things than dying, Dorian.”_

“Manipulating time itself? Many have attempted over the ages, but never once succeeded,” Vivienne told her. Dasyra had gathered her, Solas, and Varric near Vivienne’s small area in Haven to ask if they had any information on this type of magic. Madame de Fer didn’t believe what she was being told, but Dasyra didn’t blame her. She hadn’t been in Redcliffe, so Dasyra would be skeptical, too. She had been skeptical when she _was_ there, even though she was seeing it with her very own eyes.

“If true, it is fascinating. And most certainly dangerous,” Solas mused.

“It _is_ true,” Dasyra stated, slightly exasperated. The pair of mages looked at her. “Vivienne, I understand how hard it must be to believe, but it’s true.” Hazel eyes flickered over to Solas. “You were there. You saw the rifts, and I don’t believe Dorian is lying.”

 “So, basically…” Varric began, speaking for the first time before trailing off as his chin found his palm.

“We’re all in deep shit.” All three of them looked at her now. Varric couldn’t help but chuckle a bit after some of the stunned silence passed. “I didn’t know you could cuss.”

“Ah, sorry,” she sighed and covered her face momentarily with her hands. The most she cussed was when she got hurt, whether in battle or training or on accident. She knew she didn’t have to apologize – Varric had a mouth on him, and Sera was certainly the worst of them – but she was still not much of a swearer even though she was no longer in the presence of so many children like she had been with her clan. “None of us know exactly what is happening, but Dorian has a greater understanding of it than any of us. That’s why he’s coming here.”

The four spoke for at least another hour, going over what was possibly going on and what could possibly happen, before they all decided to head to the tavern to eat lunch. Outside the Chantry, however, they were interrupted by a man in armor.

“Excuse me!”

“Yes…?”

“I’ve got a message for the Inquisition.” Dasyra politely smiled at the others and told them that she’d catch up. She then turned back to the man. His voice was that of a woman’s, just a bit deeper than the typical female, but Dasyra didn’t think much of it.

“Who are you?”

His name was Cremisius Aclassi, a member of the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company. Apparently, his commander, Iron Bull, wanted to join the Inquisition. Well… her advisors wanted influence. Perhaps that was exactly what the company could get them. Dasyra thought it over in her head before meeting Cremisius’ gaze and nodding in acceptance of his offer. She had to discuss it at least with Josephine first, but she was sure it wouldn’t be a problem. Dasyra decided to walk with him to the tavern where they joined the others, introducing Krem to them.

They were only back from Redcliffe for a span of two days, but they were already set to leave. In the morning, they would be off to meet the Bull’s Chargers at the Storm Coast.

\---

_Da'len,_

_Andaran atish'an. It does my heart well to hear that you are safe. Our clan was visited by members of the Inquisition who spoke persuasively of the good work you are doing, as well as the fairness with which our kind have been treated by the Inquisition itself._

_You know that Clan Lavellan has little by way of gold, but I gave the messengers some of our healing herbs, as Sylaise blessed us with abundance in our recent foraging. We would be a distraction if we came to the Inquisition itself, our hunters arguing with the humans as they so easily do. Nevertheless, if you need aid, send word, and we are with you._

_Dareth shiral,_

_Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan_

_P.S._

_We are proud of you. We hope you are doing well… please recognize your limits as they manifest._

_Love always,_

_Mae and Bae_

Dasyra hummed to herself after reading the note. Leliana had given it to her upon first arriving back at Haven, and she kept it along with the first letter in her pack. She was happy to hear that her clan was doing just fine. The herbs her Keeper spoke of made her reminisce about the hours her and friends would spend just looking for and picking them. She still did as such when she had spare time and wasn’t quite sure what else to do, the action always making her a little bit nostalgic. Right now she felt that small tug on her heart. She had never been apart from her clan, her family and friends, for so long. She was an only child, but she loved and missed her parents, no matter how dismissive they could be sometimes. She loved and missed her cousins, and she loved and missed Deshanna, a woman who became like a second mother to her. A woman she respected and looked up to.

The first letter scared Dasyra. It reminded her of the life she left, the life she still had a responsibility to. It made her feel guilty. Did nothing to help the nightmares. Yet, the second did. It reminded her of her reasoning. _“It was the right thing to do,”_ she had told everyone. But there was also a selfish reasoning, somewhere in there. She was trying to prove something to someone. To her parents that she wasn’t a weakling needing their overprotection. To herself that she was something… more. Knowing now that she had her parents’ blessing took some of that weight off of her shoulders, and she could only thank the Creators that they hadn’t mentioned her illness.

She wished they could come to Haven, if only for a little while, but the Keeper was right. There would only be bickering and quite possibly threats of violence. In addition, Haven was beginning to reach its population limits. The refugees were welcome, and always would be. Resources would always be found for them. But her clan didn’t need to be saved. They weren’t refugees, so it was better that they stayed where they were. And they would only raise suspicions about something being wrong with her, even if it was no longer true.

“You know, Viv, you’re not bad with that staff,” Iron Bull’s voice interrupted Dasyra’s thoughts, forcing her to come back to the group. It was probably a good thing.

“You will address me as Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais,” Vivienne asserted, “or Madame de Fer. _Not_ ‘Viv’.”

“Oh. Right! Ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” he quickly corrected himself, sounding genuinely intimidated.

“Hmm. Yes, ‘ma’am’ works as well.”

Dasyra giggled to herself. The Iron Bull was a giant – or, more specifically, a Qunari. Still giant. Made Dasyra feel like an ant. She knew she’d get used to it. He was friendly - teasing, but still friendly. He had already made Dasyra and Cassandra laugh a good amount. He was… comfortable to be around. Similar to Varric.

“Sooo,” Dasyra spoke up before any bickering could happen, “How’d you get the name ‘Iron Bull’?”

“I picked it,” the Qunari answered simply. “We don’t have names under the Qun, just… I don’t know. Job descriptions, I guess. When I came to Orlais, I chose ‘The Iron Bull’ for myself.”

“But why specifically that name?” She was giving him a look. She didn’t mean to. If it baffled him, which it did, it didn’t show.

“This may surprise you, but I really like hitting things. Also, it’s ‘ _The_ Iron Bull,’ technically. I like having an article at the front." He was smart. Because he was Ben-Hassrath. Right. It was easy to forget. That was probably a mistake. "It makes it sound like I’m not even a person, just a mindless weapon, an implement of destruction. That really works for me.” Her look softened into a smile. He moved on to the next woman.

“Hey, that’s some good armor,” he said once he was at Cassandra’s side, leaving the other two to walk ahead of them and Varric.

“Are you referring to me?” she asked, brows raised.

“Some high-ranking women wear ornamental crap with tits hammered into it. One good shot, and all that cleavage gets knocked right into the sternum. Real messy. Good on you for going practical.”

“I aim to please,” she said with sarcasm.

“Leaves something to the imagination, too.” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes, walking away to join the other two women. That left the only two men together, looking to each other at the same time.

“Shit! They could be a team all on their own,” Bull remarked as he looked back to the trio walking ahead of them. “They’re all so…” he trailed off, not being able to find a word.

Varric chuckled. “You have no idea what you just got yourself into.” Dasyra and Vivienne were similar in that they both could strike a man down with just a look. The dwarf decided it was probably one of the reasons they got along, like some secret connection. Not many initially approved of or liked Vivienne’s presence, but Dasyra seemed to like her from the get-go. Maybe they inspired each other. Maybe they got together during the night and challenged each other to face offs! Who knew.

“Herald!”

A requisition officer greeted her with a brief bow as they entered one of their camps. She held up a golden amulet with serpentstone in the middle. Dasyra grinned and took it from the other’s hand, thanking her as she put it around her neck.

“What's that, Boss?” Iron Bull asked. The group had filled him on everything, from the mages, the Templars, the magister, and to their work in the Hinterlands. But he didn’t know about the work that still needed to be done here.

Still grinning, she turned to face him. “Mercy’s Crest.”

“Looks like the Blades of Hessarian are about to report to a new leader,” Cassandra said with a subtle smirk. Dasyra met her gaze and smiled. “Shall we go knock on their door?”


	9. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, my username appears in this! Hah.  
> Lavellan challenges the leader of the Blades, receives an invitation to Redcliffe, and gets snippy with our beloved Commander.

“Someone’s come with a challenge?”

“Everyone else has failed so far…”

“She barely looks stronger than my thumb!”

There were whispers as the group entered the camp of the Blades of Hessarian. Everyone stared in waiting as Dasyra led the Inquisition to the leader. She alone would face him, the Mercy’s Crest a symbol of challenge, after he killed agents of the Inquisition. His Blades weren’t allowed in the fight and neither were her companions.

“So, you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?” He scoffed at her and her eyes narrowed.

“You killed agents of the Inquisition. So, yes. I _would_.” He growled and leapt at her. She was quick to step back and bring her staff about. She tried to distance herself further from him and his sword, but suddenly there were two ferocious dogs coming after her. She let out a small yell as they came to either side of her. As one went to bite her calf, she bonked it hard on the head with the end of the staff, then turned swiftly on her heel to kick the other away. But the leader of the Blades was fast, and he was swinging his sword at her. She attempted to roll away, shielding herself with her arm as the blade came down. She let out a yell of pain this time. The others almost jumped in the fight.

Once the elf managed to get away, she could see the leader of the Blades running after her. Dasyra met the man’s eyes, and then she began running. He was fast, but she was faster. She occasionally shot a spell at him, but never stopped running. She laid traps of fire mines throughout the area, which helped take care of the dogs. If one thing was impressive, it was the amount of mana she possessed. She told herself it was all the midnight training she had done.

The man pushed one of the dogs in front of him so that it would take the hit from her spells and not him. Once the dogs were gone, though, she didn’t stop running.

Their crews watched as he chased her around. For a while, it seemed like she had no idea what she was doing. It was making the Blades laugh at her. They had a small flare of hope when she arrived, but now she was just embarrassing herself.

The Inquisition knew better. Even Iron Bull had figured it out – but he _was_ Ben-Hassrath.

She was playing with him.

All of a sudden, she formed a barrier around herself and faced the man. Excited because she finally stopped running, he took it as his chance to plow her down. She used this exact moment against him and fought in close combat, using his strength to her advantage before finally relying on her magic to deliver the final blow.

It was silent for some time after, wind washing away the last of the man’s angry and dying yells. Dasyra panted, trying to catch her breath as she made her way back to her own group. They were quick to meet her halfway. Blood was running down her arm

“Boss! That was… badaaasss!” Iron Bull grinned. “You even got a scar to tell the tale. Nice.” Dasyra smiled slightly up at him. “Right. It’d be nice to get it patched up, though. I’m feeling a little… woozy.”

They congratulated and praised her, showing their approval of her decision to challenge the leader instead of attacking the entire band. As her arm was tended to, one of the Blades came to speak to her. It turns out that they were actually just waiting for the right person to come along and take their current leader out. Apparently, he led them astray from their path, but now they pledged their service to the Inquisition. She was happy to accept their service and that any more bloodshed had been avoided.

It was amazing how many people were beginning to have faith in their cause. Helping all those people in the Hinterlands was the domino effect to gaining allies all across Ferelden and then across Thedas. Dignitaries, aristocrats, and people from all over had either visited Haven with interest or sent word. Many, of course, expected and sometimes even demanded the Inquisition to help with their problems, no matter how petty the squabbles were, but that was to be expected. With Josephine as her teacher, and sometimes with aide from Leliana, Dasyra was a student of high-status cultures. And Cullen, with aide from Cassandra, taught her ways considered to be revered and noble to warriors across the board.

The Inquisition was gaining an astonishing amount of influence, and it was quite likely that Dasyra only knew the surface of it. She was interested in being a part of everything, that’s what made her such a good student, but she still couldn’t help but feel that she was being gently guided into it. Even if she was eager for more, she appreciated it. Many things still were a bit of a culture shock and it was probably better that she was being eased into it.

\---

“I wished I could’ve seen it!” Sera nearly bellowed in the small tavern. Her, Solas, Varric, and Blackwall were all gathered in the tavern with Dasyra upon her arrival back from the Storm Coast. “You wiping that smirk off that baddy’s face… Priceless.”

“It wasn’t the most impressive thing…” Dasyra said modestly, looking away from the woman and to her hands in her lap.

“Pfft,” Sera began, but she was interrupted by Solas as he came from the bar with some food and drink for all of them.

“You defended your men, and took the extra measure to avoid further bloodshed rather than simply rampaging through their fort,” he said. His voice had its regular calm note, but she could tell he approved of her actions. She smiled slightly to herself, but Sera rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, how’s your arm doing?” she asked. The Dalish looked down to her arm, some of the bandage sticking out from beneath her pale beige sleeve. “It’s nearly finished healing.”

“Lady Casssandra said that it had been a close call to your head. I hope you’re being careful out there,” Blackwall said, a subtle smile gracing his features as she met his eyes. She couldn’t help but smile back. He could be rather charming, and Dasyra believed that he didn’t even really try.

“I am. That’s why only my arm got caught.”

Some time after munching away and sharing stories, a scout entered the tavern in search for her.

“Lady Herald, we’ve received word from Magister Alexius. Leliana has asked for you.”

Back in the war room, Leliana had gathered the other two advisors, Dasyra, and Cassandra. To the side of the war table was an invitation to Redcliffe Castle to continue negotiations for the mages between the Inquisition and Dasyra. She hated the way it felt like the mages were just objects being used, but right now it seemed like this was the only way to help them, even if it was obvious to everyone that it could only be a trap.

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle. Either we find a way in, or give up this nonsense and go and get the Templars!” Cullen argued, stubborn in helping his fellow comrades. While Dasyra knew that the Templars were as equally in trouble as the mages, and as much as she wanted to help them, she felt it somewhat as her duty to help the mages, especially after everything that had already happened. In addition, she had no experience with the Circles, and knew only the basics about Templars, as it was an ongoing lesson from her advisors.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister,” Cassandra reasoned, her tone almost soft. “This cannot be allowed to stand.”

“A Tevinter magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing,” Leliana remarked argumentatively.

“Not this again,” Josephine frowned in irritation.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” Cullen looked directly to Dasyra. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t ‘ _allow_ ’ it?” Dasyra repeated almost incredulously, eyes unintentionally narrowing as she looked to Cullen. “You have an equal say in our decisions, not the final one.” Cullen blinked at her in surprise and there was a moment of silence between the five.

Everyone had a reason for going and for not going. Too much of a risk of their lives. Too much of a risk for all of Thedas. A war between Orlais and Ferelden. It was making Dasyra’s head hurt. Cullen was the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces. She had a bias with the mages, and he had a bias with the Templars. She understood that he was worried about them and genuinely about her as well, and that he probably didn’t mean any harm by what he said. But that didn’t make it okay.

“There _has_ to be a way into the castle,” Dasyra reverted back to the matter at hand as she splayed her hands on the table, careful of the small figures at work.

“We cannot admit defeat now,” Cassandra agreed. “There must be a solution.”

“Other than the main gate, there has to be another way inside,” Dasyra thought aloud. “A water course? A damned sewer? _Something._ ”

Finally, something seemed to spark. Leliana recalled of a secret passage for the family that lead from the windmill just outside the village to the castle. Cullen criticized it for being dangerous, but if they could send in a distraction…

“Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?” It had dangers of its own, but it _could_ work.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help,” Dorian announced his presence as he entered the room, forcing all eyes on him. Dasyra wasn’t surprised to see him.

“This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander,” a soldier explained to Cullen, his tone a bit apologetic for the intrusion.

It didn’t take much longer to decide to set a trap of their own. Lavellan would “accept” Alexius’ invitation and go directly to the castle to distract him. All the while, the spymaster’s agents would infiltrate the castle via the secret passage, and boom. They would have him.

If everything went right.

“Take who you would like, but remember who you will be dealing with,” Leliana told her. But Dasyra already knew who would be in her party. If she could take everyone, she would, but that would most likely set off alarms with Alexius. Too big of a force and their trap could fail before it even had a chance. That’s why, other than Dorian, she would be taking Varric, Solas, and Cassandra. Her journey began with them, and it only felt right that they were by her side.


End file.
